


"Weird" is Relative

by Twisted_Mind



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Break Up, Explicit Language, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Male Slash, Mildly Dubious Consent, Romance, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-03
Updated: 2012-07-03
Packaged: 2018-01-24 11:07:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1602959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twisted_Mind/pseuds/Twisted_Mind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sirius Black was not a man who took well to weirdness. The one man was upsetting his balance simply by being who he was. Sirius was mostly okay with that; it was understandable, at least, given their pasts. Sirius could handle a certain amount of weirdness from him. The other man? Not so much."</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Weird" is Relative

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GhostxWriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostxWriter/gifts).



> Originally posted on July 3rd 2012 at HP Fandom for GhostxWriter's birthday. Edited upon re-posting here. 
> 
> Betaed by _Ky_. 
> 
> Disclaimer: In case you didn't know, JKR killed off Sirius in book five. Obviously, I would never have let such sexiness die, so I don't own.

Sirius Black was a man who did not take well to weirdness. After Azkaban, after being on the run, and especially after having to sit back and watch his godson defeat He-Who . . .  _Voldemort_ , Sirius had found that he liked a quiet life. One where things were calm and predictable and ordinary. Unfortunately for him, his life had been anything but as of late.  
  
It had started about a year ago, when Remus had left him. Apparently his quiet, gentle werewolf was in love with a Metamorphagus Auror. The soft-spoken man had said that they were different now, and had different needs. They had “grown apart” or some such rubbish. The bottom line was the same.  
  
Remus was gone, and had shattered Sirius when he left. And now Sirius was trying to find a way to pick up the pieces and fit his life back together. He'd mostly managed it.  
  
Mostly.  
  
His life was quiet now--there was a routine. He’d get up in the morning, dress, and go to work at his Muggle job. After work he'd come home to Grimmauld Place, shower, and cook himself dinner. Evenings were usually spent in front of the fire, writing letters or reading books. Sirius tried to take solace in the fact that things were comfortable and predictable. He tried to ignore that his life had settled into a sense of hopelessness. It was the second fact that prompted him to break from his safe, calming routine and grant The Order of the Phoenix permission to use Grimmauld for the reunion.  
  
It was absolute chaos for the next couple of weeks. Sirius found that he didn’t mind it all nearly as much as he thought he would--going out and stocking up on extra groceries, and spending the evenings tidying out guest bedrooms instead of reading before the fire. He had a bit of something to look forward to, seeing everyone again: Harry, and Ron and Hermione (who were married now, Merlin!), Minerva and Hagrid and the other professors. It would be good to see them.  
  
The thought that Remus and Tonks might also show up to the reunion was one that he squashed ruthlessly whenever it started to creep in.  
  
When they all started arriving for the three-day-long reunion and celebration of the end of the war, they came in fits and starts. Unsurprisingly, Harry was the first to arrive, showing up on the doorstep with flushed cheeks and his disheveled mop of hair. He grinned and pushed past Sirius to get inside, and marched right up the stairs, muttering quietly that he’d be down in a bit. Sirius shook his head bemusedly, and closed the door. _That was weird,_ he thought to himself.  
  
Surprisingly, the next person to arrive was none other than Severus Snape. When Sirius opened the door, he was met with a raised eyebrow. Unsure how to respond, Sirius simply stood there, his face blank. Snape looked heavenward, as if asking for patience, and then swept past him, continuing through the front hall and up the stairway with nary a word.  
  
 _That was weird,_ Sirius found himself thinking again. _Really, **really** weird._  
  
The others, when they came, were much more predictable. They waited to be shown into the house, and asked which room they would be staying in--unlike the first two guests to arrive, who simply swooped in and claimed “their” rooms without so much as a by-your-leave. Sirius found the others much easier to deal with; with them, he knew the script, when to force a laugh or smile, when he ought to nod his head or pat their shoulder.

He even found that it was possible to get through a short – somewhat stilted – conversation with Remus and Tonks that way. If he thought it was strange for them to come to the reunion, to try and converse with him, he didn’t show it.  
   
He was operating on autopilot. It was how he’d been living since Remus left. But it had never felt less comforting and familiar as it did now. Still--it _was_ familiar, and he clung to it. He didn’t know what else to do.  
   
The combination reunion-anniversary celebration went smashingly. Sirius was just having a really, really hard time trying to enjoy it, because people kept trying to upset his balance and destroy his functioning on autopilot. Two in particular. Now, Sirius Black was not a man who took well to weirdness. The one man was upsetting his balance simply by being who he was. Sirius was mostly okay with that; it was understandable, at least, given their pasts. Sirius could handle a certain amount of weirdness from him. The other man? Not so much.  
  
Not when he’d come into the kitchen while Sirius was cooking to whisper hotly in his ear, “I wish you’d let me,” before nibbling on the earlobe. Then, of course, the bloody prat would walk away, leaving Sirius with a confused head and very unhappy trousers.  
  
Not when he’d brush past Sirius in the hallway, his nimble hands roaming discretely over Sirius’s body for a moment before moving away, his eyes dark with desire.  
  
Not when he’d wander around topless early every morning, letting Sirius look his fill of all that pale, scar-marked skin and sinewy muscle before anyone else was awake.  
  
Not when Sirius caught him walking down the hall after a shower, the towel riding low on narrow hips, exposing the furry line that started just below his belly button and disappeared into the terrycloth. Sirius caught himself licking his lips as he thought about tracing the path of the water droplets that dripped from the black hair down the muscled planes of his back.  
  
Sirius wasn’t sure how much more he could take when said man approached him, asking if he could make use of the guestroom for a few more days--he had business in London. Before he’d given it any thought whatsoever, Sirius found himself nodding, saying, “Of course!” He was thanked politely, and it was then that the implications of what he’d done hit Sirius.  
  
He dropped down onto the nearest surface--which happened to be a sofa--as his mind spun.  
  
This man was flirting with him, and Sirius had basically given him permission. He shook his head; this man was not good for his quiet, comfortable, predictable life. This . . .  _thing_ between them would have to end. The thought gave him a strange pang, but he shook it off.  
  
The next few days, Sirius tried to avoid him. Tried--and failed miserably. Aside from the fact that Grimmauld Place _should_ have been big enough to avoid one other person, Sirius escape him. And just to make things worse, the impossible man was getting more and more unbearable.  
  
Now, instead of just whispering and nibbling on Sirius’s ear while cooking, the man would flick his tongue over the skin behind his ear, while his hands found their way to Sirius’s hips to stroke the bone.  
  
Now when he passed Sirius in the hallway, those roaming hands were anything but discrete--no longer content to linger over an arm or chest, those hands stroked brazenly up the inside of a thigh, the fingertips dancing over Sirius’s clothed erection before skittering away.  
  
Now he’d wander into the kitchen in the morning, his bathrobe open to reveal nothing but boxers beneath. After his showers, the man would walk--practically _strut--_ down the hall to his room, completely starkers. 

Sirius was going mad to even be thinking of him in such a way. It was _weird_ , and Sirius Black was not a man who took well to weirdness.  
  
He was quite certain it was madness when he began waking up--rather sticky, mind you--after dreams featuring the other man. Wasn’t it bad enough that he was tormenting Sirius during his waking hours? Did he really need to intrude on Sirius’ dreams as well?  
   
The third night in a row he woke that way, he seriously considered booking himself into St. Mungo’s. Not because he was still having the dreams, no. Not even because he had woken up this time by crying out for the raven-haired man. Mostly because, when he woke, it was to the vision of said delectable man slipping inside his room and making his way over to where Sirius lay in bed. He was pretty sure that hallucinations were sufficient justification for committing himself to one of St. Mungo’s secure wards.  
  
That didn’t mean that he couldn’t enjoy this hallucination while it lasted, however.  
  
The darkness of the room couldn’t quite hide the gleam of lust in the eyes of the apparition, nor could it conceal the evidence of Sirius’s arousal tenting the sheets. The intruder slunk over to the bed, untying his bathrobe and letting it fall to the floor. He was gloriously naked underneath, and Sirius squinted in the darkness, trying to stare at the body before him. The fact that he had seen the pale form in various states of undress over the last couple of weeks did nothing to diminish his desire to ogle.  
  
Moving slowly, Sirius’s lustful hallucination pulled the sheets away from his nude form. Sirius, for his part, lay there, his pulse and breathing quickening as the other man exposed him. Leaning down, he captured Sirius’s mouth in a kiss. As he pulled away, he nipped on Sirius’s lower lip, taking the gesture from sweet to teasing in an instant. No longer content to stay passive, Sirius flung his arms around his fantasy, drawing him down for another kiss.  
  
Their kisses turned heated and intense as hands roamed, mapping and touching, pinching and stroking and arousing. Finally Sirius flung out a hand, fumbling at the bedside table for the lube. He didn’t want this sinfully fabulous hallucination to end until _after_ there had been some very thorough buggering. If he was going to be a nutter, he was going to enjoy it, damnit!  
  
What he didn’t expect, however, was for the lithe man above him to snatch the lube out of his hand. He was distracted almost immediately by the mouth sucking and nibbling on one of his nipples, pulling it into a hard little nub before moving on to the next, giving it the same treatment.  
  
He might’ve objected at the slick finger probing his arse, except that the sharp bite to his hipbone caused him to thrust into it. He was _absolutely_ going to protest at the second finger sliding into his arse, but the dark-haired incubus chose that moment to delicately trace patterns up the length of Sirius’s dick with his tongue. As the third finger in his arse was accompanied by the careful drag of teeth over his cock-head, Sirius figured that if he didn’t protest _right the fuck now_ he was going to be incapable of doing so.  
  
Opening his mouth to say something like _I don’t bottom, and I sure as fuck don’t bottom for **you**_ , those wicked appendages thrust inside him forcefully, banging into his prostate and causing his eyes to roll back in his head. The only thing coming out of his mouth was a choked gurgle. By the time Sirius regained coherency, all he could think was _Hells tits, where did he learn that?_  And then those fingers were being pulled from his body with a wet sound, only to be replaced by the blunt pressure of a cock pressing its way into his body.  
  
Sirius was a touch worried--he hadn’t bottomed in _years--_ before remembering that this was a hallucination, and couldn't hurt him anyway. That didn't mean he wasn't pleasantly surprised when his body hungrily swallowed the thick cock spearing into him.  
  
Curling surprisingly strong arms around Sirius’s legs, the man above him began to rock forcefully, smirking when Sirius started moaning loudly in time with his thrusts. When he began to speak, it was in a tone Sirius had never heard from him before--it was lower, softer. Smoke and whiskey and sex.  
  
“My poor cock-starved baby,” he said mockingly. Sirius growled, but that voice went on as if he hadn’t heard. “I never should’ve waited so long to jump on you.” Leaning down to lick and bite at Sirius’ neck, his voice went even lower. “Don’t know how I waited so long for this, for you, little tart that you are.”  
  
Sirius hands, which had been scrabbling at his partner’s back, dug in as the words registered. “What the bleeding fuck did you just call me?” he ground out, glowering.  
  
The other man smirked, ramming home, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust he then--with a control that Sirius was nearly certain he didn't have--swivelled his pelvis, grinding against Sirius’s prostate. “Little. Tart,” he hissed darkly, his hips still grinding. Sirius’s eyes had slammed shut, and his throat was working for breath. His lungs seemed to have shut down under the onslaught of sensation.  
  
After a few more moments of grinding on Sirius’s prostate, he finally let up, pulled out, and then began to slam into the body beneath him mercilessly. The tipping point came when he wrapped one of his hands around Sirius’s weeping prick, squeezing the shaft and rubbing his thumbnail teasingly over the tip. His head going back, Sirius let loose with an embarrassingly high-pitched keen as he came in great gouts over the other man’s hand.  
  
Just as Sirius was riding the tail end of his orgasm, his lover impossibly managed to increase the force of his thrusts, all pretense of rhythm lost as he plundered Sirius’s body for his own climax. When he finally reached it, he let loose with a long, low moan, before collapsing on top of Sirius.

 

The two of them lay there, struggling for breath in the aftermath. Sirius was beginning to drift to sleep when he felt his lover move off of him, pulling out of his much-abused body, only to settle in next to him. Content feeling the heat of the other body pressed against his own, Sirius surrendered to sleep.  


 

***

  
  
When Sirius woke the next morning with a warm body wrapped around his own--complete with morning wood nudging his _very_ sore backside--he realized that last night had been real.  
  
“Bugger,” he said, quite clearly, at the thought.  
  
Pressed up back-to-front with the other man, Sirius felt more than heard the rumble of laughter that coursed through his bed partner. “Well, if you insist,” he said into Sirius’s hair, his voice low and gravelly with sleep.  
  
Sitting up, and pushing the other body away reluctantly, Sirius spoke resignedly. “Look, last night was great, but we can’t do this.” A pointed look was his only response. He flushed, tripping over his words in his haste to explain. “It’s just . . . we can’t, Harry! It’s too weird!”  
  
Emerald eyes flashed in amusement. “Weird is relative, Sirius. It’s only weird if _you_ think it is.”  
  
Sirius Black wondered if he was, perhaps, a man who could take spectacularly to weirdness.  
  



End file.
